


I'll Change My Ways

by Elizabeethan



Series: Find Strength in Pain [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I mean very mild, Mild Smut, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29638881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: Follow up to Find Strength in Pain, Find Strength in Me in which Emma struggles with the possibility that Killian may still be trying to get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Find Strength in Pain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177787
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	I'll Change My Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly... I just realized after I finished this series that I never got to write Hook being hit by the car in Season 2 and the sequential hospital scene, so... this was born. Some mildly whumpy hurt/comfort fluff.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @elizabeethan :)

“I have to go,” she whispers into his neck, annoyed with herself for even letting the words out against his soothing, even pulse. She’s found that her favorite way to fall asleep is with the steady beat of his heart thumping away in her ear. 

“No,” he whines, pulling her closer into his hold, ridding her of any sense of cold she felt when she lifted the blankets. “Stay.” 

“I can’t,” she giggles as his fingers trail up her side. “I promised Mary Margaret I would help with dinner.” 

With an annoyed groan, he rolls them over so that he’s planted firmly on top of her, caging her between his arms in a way that makes her want to never leave this hard, lumpy mattress. “I know,” he says, his breath blowing hot against her cheeks as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips. It’s charged, not the type of kiss you give someone who’s about to leave, but she can’t seem to find it in herself to care. “But if you stay,” he murmurs against her mouth, slinking his tongue out along her bottom lip. “I’ll make it worth your while.” 

With a contented hum as his lips meet hers again, she says, “I’m sure you will…” 

“I hate it when you leave,” he admits as his mouth trails down her neck, biting her collarbone seductively. “I wish I could be with you always.” 

His lips continue to trail down her front, making their way across her chest until they find a bare nipple that’s starting to harden. “That’d be nice,” she breathes, the air catching in her lungs and her words barely audible over the sounds of his wet, open mouthed kisses across her skin. 

“Wouldn’t it?” he asks in agreement, his voice low and rumbling against the sensitive flesh of her breast left. 

She sighs as she allows herself to fall into the trap that he set for her, not really caring that she’s going back on her word. “Killian,” she breathes desperately. 

“Don't you dare tell me you have to go,” he warns against her stomach, his voice deep and reminiscent of the pirate she met not long ago, causing another rush of arousal to flood her. While she knows he would let her go without a fight if she’d asked in this moment-- she trusts him completely-- she doesn’t stop him from dragging his mouth down lower and lower until he meets her where she aches for him the most. 

“Just,” she starts, unable to form a complete thought as he slides his tongue over her flesh. “You’re coming to-- to dinner, right?” 

He hums against her, causing her breathing to stutter. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says, not lifting his tongue from her and slipping two fingers easily inside. “Anything that’s important to you is important to me.” 

She’s never cared much for talking during sex, but the way he speaks to her, somehow able to do so while continuing to pleasure her, drives her wild. The sound of his voice, the feeling of his mouth vibrating against her skin, the meaningful content of his words, it brings her close to the edge faster than anything ever has. 

As he drives her closer and closer, his fingers curling just right and his tongue applying the perfect amount of pressure, she’s consumed with thoughts of how perfect it is to be with him. 

~~~~

“I don't trust him,” David exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the back of the couch he’s seated on. 

Emma rolls her eyes, dropping herself dramatically onto the stool. “Oh, come on,” she says exasperatedly. 

“He’s a pirate!”

“So what?!”

“Emma, you didn’t grow up in the Enchanted Forest,” Mary Margaret tries to reason. “Pirates there are gruesome.” 

She can’t possibly roll her eyes any harder. “You guys barely know him, not that you’ve tried. I’d be dead if not for him.” 

Their expressions somber at the words that leave her mouth. It’s true, if not for him pulling her from the sea that the portal dropped her in, she’d have drowned. Although, she should probably stop using that as a reason that they should like him. Her liking him should probably be enough, right?

“I’m sorry,” David finally says after too much quiet. Mary Margaret had finished cooking moments ago (Emma barely helped), leaving the three of them in an awkward silence. “You're right, things would be very different if you hadn’t run into him. It’s just that--” his voice cracks, his resolve faltering slightly as he runs his hand over his eyes. “I had just found out that you're my daughter. My  _ daughter. _ And then you were gone. And now you're back and bringing a pirate to dinner. It’s a lot to take in.” 

She stands from the stool, walking towards the couch he sits on and planting herself beside him. Things have been awkward, and it’s not difficult to see that. Emma spent her entire life believing she’d been abandoned, and when she found out the truth, she couldn't help but to think that was somewhat true. Her parents had no choice, and she knows that, but at the end of the day, she grew up alone and unloved. 

“I know it’s a lot,” she consoles, thinking about putting her hand on his knee but drawing back. It’s a lot for her too. “But you guys are important to me, and so is he. I’d like it if you could at least try to see the good in him behind the pirate thing.”

“ _ The pirate thing _ ,” he chuckles, glancing over to his wife and then to her. “Leave it to our daughter to fall for a damn pirate.” 

The sentence is loaded with things that make her uncomfortable.  _ Our daughter. Fall for a pirate.  _ It’s a lot. 

“Is he always late?” Mary Margaret asks, glancing at the clock on the wall to her left and giving Emma a slightly incredulous look. Emma looks at the clock, too, and notices that he’s ten minutes late already. It doesn't seem like him. 

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe something came up. He isn't exactly used to this world yet.” 

“He’s been here nearly three months. Aren’t pirates supposed to adapt easily to their environment?” David asks. 

With a scoff, she says, “I think you're thinking of, like, webbed feet or gills or something.” 

David rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with a soft laugh. “I just mean he seems capable of reading a clock.” 

_ He is, _ she thinks, but she forces herself to not be worried about him. He can handle himself. 

Still, the thoughts that haunt her, the ones that tell her he’s going to leave her and never come back, have a grip on her heart that she can’t seem to loosen. And when she and David get the distress call that has them racing to the town line, she isn't comforted one bit when she sees him lying in the street, unmoving. What is he doing out here? Why is Gold trying to attack him? Why is Belle crying and confused? 

Too many questions race through her head, and he doesn’t have a single answer to give. 

~~~~

She insists that the nurse find him a private room on the opposite side of the hospital as Belle. Gold is on a tear, searching for Hook and holding his cane up threateningly, ready to bring it down on his already-broken ribs. He claims that Hook shot Belle, forcing her over the town line and effectively wiping her memories forever. The story makes sense, only because Belle is terrified of Gold and has no idea who she is. But what doesn't make sense to her is Killian’s involvement. All she can do now is sit in his room and stare as he sleeps restlessly, flinching and keening in pain each time he moves. 

He finally stirs, with too much force so that it causes him to cry out softly, and her heart tugs in her chest seeing him in such pain. “Killian,” she tries, noting the way his brows sit tensely on his face and he bites down hard on his bottom lip. “What happened?” 

“Hey, beautiful,” he says with a weakened smirk, hissing as he tries to sit up towards her. 

“Stop, you broke a few ribs. You have to stay still.” 

He hums and smirks some more, exclaiming softly, “I'm sure we can work with my stillness, love.” 

“Hook,” she deadpans seriously, causing him to school his features and look her in the eye sadly at her use of his moniker. “What did you do to Belle?” 

“I didn’t do a thing,” he says, shaking his head. Then he corrects himself: “I don’t remember anything.”

“You don't remember?” she asks, leaning closer to him and taking his hand in hers, careful not to pull too hard against the cuffs. 

“Bloody hell,” he says once he notices. “Again? You're really into this, aren't you? I’m sure we can integrate the use of bonds without--”

“Hook!” 

“Please don't call me that,” he begs softly, snapping out of his joking demeanor and staring at her with such depth that it makes her eyes water. “I don't know what happened.” 

“Gold saw you shoot Belle. She went over the town line, Killian. She lost all her memories!” 

He shakes his head and breathes shallowly, painfully. “Emma, I swear to you, I didn't do this. You’ve changed me, love. I told you I don’t need revenge anymore.” 

“I know,” she whispers, nodding and dropping her head to the mattress beside his hip before he runs his fingers along her scalp. Somehow, she finds herself being soothed by him despite the fact that he was just hit by a car and thrown fifteen feet. “It’s just that I’m the sheriff and I have to follow the evidence--” 

“I know, darling. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating the bloody sheriff,” he quips, and she can hear the smile on his face despite how battered he is. “But I promise you I didn’t hurt her.” 

She lifts her head again, meeting his longing gaze, and lets herself lean towards him. “Will it hurt if I kiss you?” she breathes. 

“Yes,” he responds. “But I'm nothing if not willing to endure a bit of pain from the woman I fancy.” 

She giggles girlishly and presses towards him, feeling him placing his cuffed hand atop her own as she moves her right hand towards the flat pillow behind his head. 

“And now she’s canoodling with the suspect,” she hears from the door, forcing her to pause her movements and turn her head. “How can we trust that the sheriff will conduct a fair and unbiased investigation?”

She backs away slowly, rolling her eyes defensively in order to distract from the way her heart is racing. It seems convenient for Regina to walk in now, followed closely by David, and she pushes up against his pillow in a way that makes him groan. She shoots him a sympathetic look of apology, which he returns with a pained smile. 

“Your majesty,” he greets with sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“Has the sheriff read you your miranda rights?” she asks coldly, ignoring his greeting. 

“He isn’t under arrest,” Emma argues. 

She laughs. “I beg to differ, Miss Swan. He shot someone in cold blood. If you ask me, and anyone else in this town, that’s attempted murder.” 

“He didn’t--” 

“Things work differently here,  _ Captain _ ,” she practically spits. “If you plan on staying, you have to follow the laws set in place. Those include not murdering other citizens.” 

“I  _ didn’t _ ,” he insists. 

David sighs from the doorway. “Emma, are the cuffs secure?” 

“You’d better check them, David. This isn’t the first time our sheriff has been romantically involved with a dangerous criminal.” 

“Hey!”

“Excuse me?”

“Swan?” 

“Everyone out,” Regina commands. “This is going to be a lawful investigation, unlike the last one you ran,” she accuses, staring at Emma. She walks around to the right side of his bed and tightens his cuffs unnecessarily. 

Looking down at Killian in concern, Emma stands and bites her lips. “It’s alright, love,” he consoles. She wishes she could hold his hand to her chest to ground herself. “Do what you have to do to prove me innocent. I’ll be fine.” 

“I know you didn’t--” 

“ _ Miss Swan,”  _ Regina scolds, and she has no choice but to leave him chained to the hard hospital bed, battered and broken and accused of a crime she’s certain he didn’t commit. 

~~~~

“He didn’t do it.” 

“Emma…” 

“He didn’t! He told me he didn’t and I believe him!” 

“There are witnesses!” 

“ _ A  _ witness! And the  _ one  _ witness happens to be someone who hates him! You can’t honestly believe that Gold is a reliable source!” 

David sighs heavily and drops himself to his desk chair, leaning backwards and scrubbing his hands over his face in stress. “Emma, you and I both know he was supposed to be at dinner and he wasn’t. He doesn’t have an alibi!” 

“We’ll find him one! I’m sure there are cameras.” 

She can’t sit still. She can’t stop pacing the station anxiously, ringing her hands together and cracking her knuckles. “Emma,” David says once more, and she can’t take it anymore. She sits forcefully in her chair and stares at him. “The man who ran him over is going to wake up soon. He’s in surgery with Dr. Whale. If he can ID Hook, then we have another witness.” 

She rolls her eyes, laughing insolently and slamming her hand on the desk. “Oh, so we’ll take the word of the man who literally mowed down the suspect with his car?” 

“I know you love him--” he tries, and she jumps from her chair again. 

“Woah--”

“--or have feelings for him, whatever it is. But we have to be impartial, here. Anything we find, Regina is going to pick apart. Remember Mary Margaret’s case?” She nods with a pout. “It’ll be that, but worse. Because you’re romantically involved with the primary suspect.”

She rolls her eyes again, but knows he’s right. “Look,” she says. “At the end of the day, someone shot Belle. I know it wasn’t Killian, so we have to find out who it was. The evidence is way too convenient; in the real world, it would be hard to pin this on him.” 

He nods. “Dr. Whale says he’ll be released tomorrow. Apparently he’s fine, just battered a bit. He’ll be released into my custody and stay here.” 

With a groan, she starts, “you can’t be serious. He isn’t--” 

“The eyewitness account is enough cause for us to arrest him. If we don’t, Regina will use it against the investigation.” She drops her head to the desk and shakes it. “You’ve  _ got  _ to be impartial here, Emma. A misstep as big as tampering with an investigation could mean bad things in your case with Henry.” 

She sighs again and pouts out her bottom lip. “I know,” she admits. It just seems too convenient for this to impact her so critically. 

~~~~

**_CAPTAIN HOOK THROWN IN BRIG!_ **

_ SHERIFF GIRLFRIEND UNRELIABLE? _

She slams the paper down on the desk with a frustrated grunt after reading this morning’s headline. Leave it to The Storybrooke Mirror to tarnish her name overnight. She’s positive that a certain mayor fed the author the information, too, because there’s no way they could know some of these details. Particularly the ones about the Sheriff  _ canoodling with the suspect in his hospital bed _ . She’s disgusted. 

She didn’t sleep a wink last night, rolling and tossing endlessly and wondering how uncomfortable Killian must've been with his cracked ribs and limited mobility. He likes to sleep on his side, so she can’t imagine how hard it must've been for him to get any rest with his arms chained to the rails. 

Being forced to choose between her son and the man she… cares for deeply… has been incredibly painful. Of course, she’ll choose her son first every time. And David's right; if Emma has any hopes of gaining legal custodial rights to Henry, she has to be careful here. One misstep in this investigation could mean her job and her reputation. But knowing that Killian couldn't have done this and not being able to prove it yet has been way too difficult. All she can do is compile enough evidence to prove that it wasn’t him. 

Killian looks horrible. Truthfully, he always looks dashing, but with his face beaten and bruised and his pained limping, she can’t help but cringe when she sees David guiding him through the station and into the stark, cold cell. Not to mention, they cut open his clothes when they brought him to the hospital, so he’s stuck wearing green scrubs until they can find him something better to wear. 

(She tries to ignore the way they fit over his ass-- perfectly.)

“Are you okay?” she asks in concern when he’s brought through the station. David doesn’t let him stop walking, despite his exhausted limp, and forces him along until they reach his cell. 

“Fine, love,” he replies with a pained smile once the bars are shut. He drops himself firmly to the hard mattress and lets out a deep, stuttering breath through broken ribs. 

She ignores David’s look of disdain for her worry for him and asks, “did they give you anything for the pain?” once she’s leaning against the bars. 

“He’s not allowed any substances,” David answers. 

“Oh, come on!” she spits as she spins towards him. “They’re prescription! He was hit by a car yesterday!” 

“I’ll look into it, we have to have Whale sign off on it,” he grumbles, walking towards his desk. “I’ve got to go get a statement from Leroy.” 

With a soft glare, she shrugs and says, “okay, well, I’ll wait here and finish up the paperwork.” 

He nods at her, gathering his things and walking towards the door. 

Once he’s gone, she rushes for the desk and fetches the keys out of the top drawer where David keeps them. “Swan, no,” Killian says from behind the iron. “You’ll get into trouble.”

“I’m not letting you out,” she responds incredulously as she fiddles with the lock. “I’m coming in.” 

“Emma…” he starts weakly. She can hardly stand to see him locked behind bars and so painfully uncomfortable. The least she can do is provide him with a bit of consolation. 

“Hey,” she says once she’s inside, leaving the door open and tucking the keys in her jacket pocket before walking towards his mattress. She sits down beside him and touches her hand gently to his bruised cheek. “I’m sorry this is happening. I’m gonna get you out of here.” 

He leans into her palm and presses a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I know, love. I trust you.” 

“I trust you,” she says to him with a sense of urgency. “I know you didn’t do this.” 

“It’s comforting to hear from you, darling, but I do also keep hearing about this air-tight evidence against me.” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. “It’s hardly air-tight. It’s just your word against Gold’s-- Belle doesn’t remember anything.” 

“Well,” he shrugs, “going after his love does seem like something I would do, after what he did to Milah.” 

She stiffens slightly, not at the mention of Milah, but at the thought that he’s right, it does seem like something he would do. It also seems like something he’s outgrown since coming to Storybrooke. “You said you've changed, though,” she reasons quietly. 

He shifts under the weight of her head and raises his hand, stroking it along her cheek. “I have, Emma. I wouldn’t be half the man I am now if not for meeting you. You’ve helped me to realize that there's more to life than revenge. But some people may not know that about me.” 

She draws her brows together in thought at his claim, considering his meaning and wondering about the basis behind it. Before she has a chance to fully construct the puzzle of thoughts and clues in her mind, he’s leaning closer towards her until his nose touches lightly against her own and she grins. “Feeling a little better?” she asks, her breath washing against his lips. 

“Well, someone stole the potion that Dr. Whale said would take away the pain, so I'm still feeling as though I was struck by a two-ton beast. And I just feel… strange.” 

She hums thoughtfully, running her fingers along his scalp and avoiding the ugly bruise on his forehead. “Strange how?” 

He shrugs. “I suppose it could be the medication; I just feel a bit off. Not myself.”

Biting her lip, Emma continues her ministrations on his scalp and notes that he doesn’t roll his eyes back as he normally would-- perhaps she’s hurting him and he’s too much of a gentleman to let her know. “I’m sure you’ll be feeling more like yourself in a few days.”

“Aye, you're right,” he agrees. “And I’ll never feel bad enough to not want to kiss my lady love.” His words break her feelings of worry as she smiles up at him.

“Good,” she whispers against his mouth as their lips finally meet. His is split from the force of his accident, and she doesn't miss the pained grunt he lets out in response to the pressure of their kiss. It makes her draw away from him and his brows furrow. “Sorry.” 

“It’s not that bad,” he tries to assure her, pushing towards her again and kissing her once more until he’s taking in a deep breath against his broken ribs and keening softly. “Alright.” 

“Killian,” she whispers sadly, stroking her fingers through his hair again. “Get some rest. We’ll figure this out, I promise. And once you're healed and out of here, you can kiss me as much as you want.” 

He hums out a soft laugh, not quite as exuberantly as she’s used to although she understands why. “I know, love.” 

“I’ll be back tomorrow to bring you breakfast. Something good, not like the crap we give the other perps.” 

“Sounds lovely,” he says flatly as he presses his forehead to hers. 

“We’ll figure this out, I promise,” she tries to console. She only hopes she’s right so that he doesn't have to feel so down anymore. 

“Aye.”

~~~~

“Honey, Hook’s ship is here. At the docks.” 

Mary Margaret’s voice cuts through the sad bubble of confused isolation Emma has made for herself on the couch of the loft, and she thinks she jumps at the sound of her words. 

She furrows her brows and crosses her arms once she’s standing. “What?”

“Emma, I really think,” she starts, looking down at her shoes and shaking her head. “I think he might have been planning to leave.” 

“No he isn’t,” she says as she rolls her eyes. 

“Think about it! He came here to get his revenge, didn’t he? Well, now he’s got it, and suddenly his ship shows up the next day? It’s pretty convenient.” 

Emma huffs in exasperation at the claims her own mother is making. “Why can’t you just trust me?” she asks, surprising even herself at her outburst. “Why can’t you just trust me when I say there is  _ no way _ he did this? I’ve told you and David so many times that I trust him. He’s saved my life on more than one occasion. I literally wouldn’t be here if not for him.” 

“I know, I know,” she says, trying to comfort Emma by putting a hand on her shoulder. She dodges the gesture and turns so that she can stalk towards the refrigerator. “Emma, please. Just listen to the evidence.”

She stops dead in her tracks and spins back around to face her mother. “You’re always trying to tell me that I'm the Savior and I should trust my instincts. Why is this any different?” 

“Leroy said he saw Hook walking towards the town line,” she says desperately, pleading with Emma to listen to her as she hits her with the statement David collected from apparently another witness. “I know what it’s like to be betrayed by someone you love--” 

“Don’t,” Emma insists. “Please don't. I never said that I…” she sighs. “You don’t know what I’ve been through already with… with every other guy I’ve dated. He’s different. And I struggled to see that at first, but he really is different. He didn’t do this.” 

Mary Margaret is quiet, sitting on the stool at the high countertop and nodding in empathy at Emma's pathetic admission. She knows bad guys. She’s been with plenty of them. And she knows that Killian isn’t one of them. 

~~~~

Emma is sent home the next morning, when Killian’s cell is found empty and the security tapes show her unlocking the door the day before, keys still in her jacket pocket. 

It takes a lot for her to hold in her tears and she walks down main street. Regina was somehow there when it all happened, making claims about Emma’s failed attempts at parenting and how she’s the worst possible option for Henry. No judge in their right mind would leave an 11-year-old in the care of a woman who sympathized with a man who attempted murder and then helped him escape prison. Regina promised that she would never see Henry again. 

She isn’t sure how she could let this happen. How she could allow herself to trust someone so completely only to be so painfully wrong in doing so. How she could miss the signs, and once they’re blaring in front of her, still not truly see them. 

As she rounds the street and sees the  _ Jolly Roger  _ sitting unmistakably proud in the harbor, she does let her tears fall, but her sadness at him doing this quickly makes way for anger at him leaving. How could he leave her? He knows so much about her past; more than she’s ever told anyone. Part of the reason she trusted him so quickly is because they're kindred spirits experienced in abandonment. How could he do this to her knowing all that she’s been through? 

She hurries down the street, fury fueling each step as she gets closer and closer to the ship she called home for a few days months ago. She felt awful at the fact that he had lost her when they first arrived in Storybrooke, but he always assured her that while he had Emma, he needed nothing else. Now, that seems like a lie too. 

But her lie detector didn’t ever go off. 

She sees him sitting on the deck of his ship with a blank look on his face and wonders why the hell he would even still be here. When she calls, “Killian!” he doesn’t jump and barely turns to look at her, glancing her way and then focusing back on the horizon before him. 

Stalking up the gangplank, she reaches him quickly and notes his expression, void of emotion. “What are you doing?” 

He finally looks up at her, his eyes lacking the brilliant sparkle that they always have in the sun, and says, “leaving.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Come with me,” he insists, turning to her mechanically and giving her a forced smile. “Remember how much fun we had the last time? We can spend the rest of our days aboard the  _ Jolly. _ ” 

Shaking her head, and furrows her brows tightly and kneels before him, taking his hand in hers and wordlessly begging him not to look at her, but to  _ see _ her. “Killian, what’s going on? This isn’t like you.” 

“Of course it is,” he scoffs, squeezing her hand. “I’m a pirate. I belong on the sea.” 

She hears a commotion from down the street, and turns to see David and Mary Margaret running towards the ship with haste. “I can’t leave, Killian, I need to stay with Henry.” 

“You’ll not be able to see Henry after this, love. Remember? Regina said she would never allow it. Come with me and I’ll help you forget all about him.” 

Cocking her head to the side, she tries to pull her hand from his when he squeezes too tight but it’s as if his grip is made of iron. “How would you know what Regina said? You weren't there; what’s going on?” 

David and Mary Margaret ascend the gangplank quickly, shouting for her and trying to tell her to get away from Killian. Her blood chills in her veins, her heart dropping to her stomach, when she hears his hair-raising chuckle in response to her question. 

“Oh Emma,” he says in a way that sounds nothing like himself. “You got me.” 

“Emma, look out!” Mary Margaret cries, and when she turns away from Killian and towards the entrance of his quarters and sees Cora emerging, holding a glowing orb the size of her hand. She waves a hand before herself and her parents freeze where they stand. 

“Clever girl,” she praises darkly once she’s in view. “I thought I had everyone tricked.” 

It’s completely unnerving, the way Cora speaks into Killian’s heart and he says exactly what she does at the same time. It’s like an ominous echo on either side of her. “What have you done?” Emma asks, trying hard to block out the soft, sinister chuckle that comes from both Cora and Killian. 

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” they both say, and Cora rolls her eyes, glancing back at Killian. “Oh, do shut up.” She turns back to Emma and continues. “You and the Captain wronged me. All I wanted was to reunite with my daughter, and you made that terribly difficult. Luckily for me, his ship can travel across realms, and once you opened your portal, and since I had the vessel to carry me, it wasn’t difficult to use magic to find your Storybrooke. It’s quaint, I must say.” 

Emma shakes her head in disbelief, trying hard to grasp what’s happened, and turns to Killian to note his still-expressionless face staring straight ahead at the woman who’s been controlling him all along. “So what, you came here to torture Killian and me?” 

She laughs raucously, tossing her head back carelessly, and says, “no, my dear. I came here to make amends with my daughter. And what better way to do that than to get her her son back? To get the woman who gave him up out of the way?” 

“You're insane,” Emma accuses. “Give me his heart.” 

“Oh, I don’t think I will,” she says. “I have to give him the last of his instructions.” Raising her hand to her mouth again, she says, “Killian, it’s time for you to leave and forget this ever happened. Take Emma away on your ship, no matter what she says.” 

He stands, brushing past Emma carelessly, and makes his way towards the helm. “No!” she cries, mustering all that she can and drawing a ball of magic in her hands, just like she’s practiced. 

“I don’t think you want to do that, Emma,” Cora warns, then she squeezes Killian’s heart and he stops short in his place, crying out in pain and doubling over as his hand grips at his empty, broken chest. “Try anything, and his heart will be dust before you can blink.” 

Emma stands, heat radiating from her palms from both her magic and her anger. “Let him go.” 

“Hmm… no.” She squeezes again and he bellows once more, tears falling from his eyes, and Emma can no longer hold back the magic she’s been trying to control. 

She lets loose and allows her emotions and instincts to drive the power from her fingertips, blasting straight for Cora and knocking her to the ground as Killian’s heart bounces across the deck. He responds with a pained cry and she shouts, “grab it!” 

He rights himself and chases after his heart while Emma holds her magic as firmly as she can, not letting go of Cora until she’s sure his heart is safe. She finally has to release her hold, her powers too depleted to hold on any longer. 

Cora lets out a breath of exhaustion and sags slightly where she stands, before shouting, “you  _ stupid girl! _ Don’t you remember what I told you the last time? Love is weakness. Your feelings for Hook will get you killed.”

She’s got him by the neck before Emma can even blink, not even bothering to take his heart back in favor of using brute force to torture the both of them. Killian chokes out her name and she feels her eyes burning. “Stop,” she begs. “Let him go.” She continues to squeeze and Killian’s eyes bug out of his head before Cora delivers a swift punch to his ribs. Emma can see his eyes fluttering as he begins to lose consciousness, the pain too much for him to bear, and she shouts at Cora through tears.

“Let them go, mother,” she hears from the docks, Regina’s commanding voice sending a chill down Emma’s spine. She steps up the gangplank with authority, her heels clicking sharply against the metal. “I said  _ let them go.” _

“Regina, darling,” Cora greets as she drops her hand, Killian falling to the deck and heavily intaking a gulping breath. Emma runs to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been far too long.”

“Not long enough,” Regina responds angrily. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” she whispers, noting the way Killian pants and cringes sharply with each breath, holding his hand to his cracked ribs, barely able to focus on her eyes before him. “Killian,” she practically whimpers, stroking her fingers through his hair. 

“Why, I’m here to help you, my dear. Don’t you want your son back?”

Killian’s breathing becomes shallow as he seems to be tempted to give in to the pain and darkness that must be clouding his vision, letting his hand go limp. “Killian!” 

“Not like this! Emma is important to Henry. So is Killian. You sending them away would only hurt him!”

Cora scoffs and shakes her head, looking away from her daughter and off towards the horizon. “You still haven’t learned to trust me. I know what’s best.”

“You stole Hook’s heart and made him shoot Belle, didn’t you? You made his escape from prison, too?”

With a condescending laugh, she says, “actually, I shot Belle disguised as him. I wanted the satisfaction of being the one to hurt Rumple. But otherwise, yes, you’re right.” 

While Emma wants to know what has happened to cause all of this, Killian’s near loss of consciousness is in the forefront of her mind. “We have to get him to the hospital,” Emma calls, desperately stroking along his scalp but powerless to ease his pain. 

Regina rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t need the hospital,  _ Savior _ ,” she spits. “Just put his heart back and heal him!”

“ _ What?!” _

Cora laughs again, shaking her head, and says, “honestly, this girl can’t get out of her own way.  _ This _ is the Savior? The girl who doesn’t even know what her powers can do? I’m beginning to think each time she’s bested me was pure coincidence.”

“Mother,” Regina says, effectively shutting down Cora’s rant. “Come with me. What you’ve done will not stand, and you must pay for the harm you’ve caused. Release the Snow and Charming and let’s go.”

Emma hardly pays attention as her parents are released from the spell holding them still and Regina and her mother vanish, too distracted by her attempts to comfort a clearly tortured Killian. She’s never seen him in so much pain; never felt so helpless to stop the source of his agony. She knows it’s bad because he isn’t even trying to hide his torment for her benefit. “Killian,” she whispers, leaning her forehead against his and stroking along his scalp as soothingly as she can. She puts her hand over his, feeling the weak beating of his heart in his grip. “I’m sorry. I’m going to try and fix this.”

“Swan,” he breathes, finally looking up at her with clouded, hooded eyes. “I trust you.”

She takes his heart from his grasp, holding it in both hands against his chest nervously. She isn’t sure how to do this, isn’t she if she even  _ can _ do this, so she takes a deep, grounding breath and focuses on her hands. She hasn’t had much luck with using magic unless she’s upset, so she lets herself get emotional about what he’s been through and plunges his heart back into his battered chest. 

He cries out in pain as she does it, but seems to catch his breath once his heart is back in its place, grabbing her hand that lays against his chest and squeezing firmly. 

“You did it!” Mary Margaret says with enthusiasm. “Can you heal him now?”

“I think so,” she confirms, thinking back to Regina’s words. Now that he has his heart back, she thinks she should be able to use magic to heal him, as long as she’s able to conjure up enough to do so. He looks up at her again, his eyes finally a bit more clear as they shimmer in the sunlight, and gives her the smile she’s been missing since this whole thing began.  _ He’s back _ . She touches her palm to his cheek and returns his small grin. 

Taking a deep breath, she taps in to her emotions again. She tries to focus on her anger as she had just moments ago, holding her hands above his chest in an effort to manifest his healing. But even as she thinks about Cora’s betrayal, as she thinks about how badly she hurt him, she can’t seem to make anything happen and he continues to lie in pain beneath her. 

She lets out a frustrated grunt and looks up at Mary Margaret and David, tears streaking her cheeks. “It’s not working.”

“You can do this, Swan,” Killian utters painfully, squeezing her hand and smiling weakly at her. “I believe in you.” 

Gazing back into his eyes, she lets a tear fall against his jacket and smiles at him. She believes him, believes in the faith he puts in her. She knows he’s being truthful when he tells her that he trusts her wholeheartedly. Rather than focusing on the anger she feels for him being in this position, she hones in on the way her heart clenches when she sees him walking into Granny’s each morning. She imagines the grin on his face when she tells him she’s spending the night. She remembers each and every one of his tender touches. And suddenly, her hands feel hot, glowing light emanating from her palms, straight into his broken bones. 

He groans as the magic hits him, mending his cracked ribs and angry lungs. The skin on his face fuses back together, the bruises on his cheeks and under his eyes fading back into the smooth, even tone of his face. She watches as he finally takes in a full breath, smiling when he does and relaxing against the wood of the deck below him. When he’s finally healed, he opens his eyes and simply whispers, “Emma.” 

She lets out a breath of relief and drops herself to his chest, planting a kiss to his neck and whispering, “you’re okay.”

“Aye,” he confirms, running his hand up her back and hugging her to him. “Thanks to you. I knew you could do it.”

She kisses his neck and pulls away, scanning him to ensure that he’s truly healed when she hears Mary Margaret’s confounded tone. “Emma, that was amazing,” she says. 

Looking up at her parents, she grins. “I didn’t think I was gonna be able to do it, but I just…” she looks back down at him as he starts to sit up, his shining forget-me-nots meeting hers, and her breath catches in her throat. Softly, and only to him, she utters, “I just thought about how much you mean to me, and it was easy.” 

He takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “You’ve no idea what you mean to me, love. I would never leave you. I would never try to convince you to leave your son.” 

“I know,” she nods. “I knew that wasn’t you.”

She wants to kiss him. She wants to tell him what he means to her, what she’s discovered, how she feels about him. But David clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable with their closeness, and says, “we should make sure Regina and her mother are where they need to be, right? We’re going to have to figure out how to arrest and detain Cora.” 

“I’ve just the thing, mate,” Killian offers. He makes his way to his feet with Emma’s minimal help and says, “now that I’ve my ship back, I’m hoping to have all of her possessions as well.” 

He disappears below deck into his quarters for a moment, reappearing with a small piece of leather and tossing it David’s way. “What’s this?”

“It will block her from using magic. She won’t be able to break out of the brig with that on her wrist.”

“Perfect.” 

“How did you know to come here?” Emma asks as they start towards the gangplank. 

“Gold,” Mary Margaret explains. “He said he felt a great and powerful magic entering Storybrooke and Regina just… knew somehow. We knew you had worked with her in the past, so we figured she would try and make that alliance again.” 

“Aye,” Killian confirms. “Only this time it wasn’t voluntary.” 

David blushes, Mary Margaret does too, when he says, “yeah… we can see that now.” 

~~~~

With Killian effectively off the… hook… and Cora’s helpful, in-the-moment confession in the books, Emma is reinstated and reads the witch her rights, locking her in the cell and tossing David the keys. (Like hell is she getting caught with those in her pocket again.) Once all is said and done, Cora unable to use magic to escape or to terrorize anyone else in town, everyone decides to go to Granny’s to celebrate their small victory. 

Of course, it’s difficult to get too excited, what with Belle’s memory still being gone, but Emma is hopeful that she’ll be able to use magic to heal her just as she did Killian. The man who hit him with his car hasn’t woken up from surgery yet, but they’re hopeful that, with the charges dropped and once he’s well enough, he’ll leave town and not look back. 

In their usual booth in the corner by the door, Emma and Killian watch as Henry shows David his favorite songs on the jukebox. She lets her chin rest on his shoulder and hugs his upper arm, planting a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“All because of you, my darling. You were incredible.”

“I was really scared,” she murmurs softly into his skin. “I thought she was gonna kill you.”

After a beat and a gulp, he admits, “aye, me too.” 

“You did?” she asks, sitting up to look at him head on. 

He nods. “For a moment, I did. But then I saw you and… even though I couldn’t really get in touch with that part of myself, I just knew everything would be alright.” 

She hums thoughtfully, letting her head fall onto his shoulder now. “That’s a lot of faith to put in one person.” 

“Aye, well, I’ve learned never to question your abilities.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail,” he says easily.

She leans up again, turning her head as he turns his and gazing into his deep, clear eyes. “You really mean that, don’t you?” He furrows his brows and nods fervidly. With a sigh, as she desperately works to build up the courage to admit what she realized on the dock of the _ Jolly _ where they’ve shared so much together. “Can I tell you something?” she whispers nervously. 

“Anything.” 

“I… I almost thought I wasn’t going to be able to heal you. I was doing what I usually do when I use magic; thinking about things that make me angry in order to find the power I need to control it. But it didn’t work. It only worked when I… when I thought about how much you mean to me.” 

He smiles softly at her, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her temple, and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You mean more to me than you’ll know, love,” he murmurs against her skin, kissing her temple once more. 

She swallows the lump in her throat and nuzzles her head against his, taking a deep breath, and says, “I love you.”

He tenses around her, his grip on her tightening and his breath stilling in his fully-functioning lungs. He’s silent for a moment before he lets out a breathy chuckle and removes his arm from around her. Turning to face her in the booth, she nervously does the same until his palm cups her cheek and his thumb runs along her cheekbone. “Emma Swan,” he says softly, as if in disbelief, inches from her face. “I love you, too.”

With a relieved chuckle, she shakes her head and plunges her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, pulling him to her for a heated kiss. He lets his fingers slide into her hair, tangling his rings through her golden strands, and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips. She lets herself melt into his hold, feeling her pulse quicken despite how calm and relaxed she feels in his arms. 

“Thank god,” she breathes against his mouth when they’ve finally slowed. 

He lets out a raucous laugh, pulling back and staring at her with stars in his eyes. “Did you really think I wouldn’t say it back?” 

With a shrug, she says, “I don’t know.” 

He laughs again, shaking his head and kissing her nose. “Swan, I’ve loved you since the moment you held that knife to my throat.”

She laughs as well, pushing her forehead to his and noticing that Henry finally picked a song. He should be back to the table soon, but she can’t seem to pull away from him. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you, my love. And I intend to show you just how much I love you, should you choose to spend the night on the  _ Jolly _ with me now that she’s back.” 

She doesn’t even have to think. The idea of spending the night with him, doing the things she secretly wanted to do with him the last time they were aboard together, is a no brainer, and she nods against his kiss. 

He succeeds in showing her how deeply he loves her that night, and every night thereafter. 

  
  



End file.
